


LARP

by Baneberry



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Comedy, Foot Jobs, Handcuffs, Kink Meme, M/M, Sexual Roleplay, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2664815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baneberry/pseuds/Baneberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fulcrum should have known better than to stow-away on Captain Crankcase's ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LARP

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for this kinkmeme prompt: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=14472448#t14472448
> 
> I guess I'm just in a kink-meme-filling mood. /shrug/
> 
> Hope you enjoy these idiots.
> 
> [Tumblr link](http://captainbaneberry.tumblr.com/post/103430375228/larp-2281-words-by-baneberry-ao3): because a reblog is always appreciated! （●>ω・）ﾉ

For the past thirty seconds, Crankcase stood staring out the small window in his private quarters. Hands behind his back, an unimpressed, annoyed expression on his face; one would think it was perpetually frozen that way. However, through the agitation he was thinking, deeply; contemplating.

Fulcrum was starting to get impatient. He stayed still on his spot on the ground, sitting on his legs. Tried not to move or distract the Scavenger from his reminiscing. But... Though they'd only just started, Fulcrum was beginning to have second thoughts. If only because... what exactly did Crankcase have planned? He knew going into this, things might get a little... odd--the premise itself was unconventional--but, honestly, Fulcrum hoped he wouldn't regret his decision.

It was hardly wise to follow orders from your libido. But, hey, sometimes you were a victim of circumstance. Especially when you were restless, had nothing else to do, and it had been -years- since you last had a good frag...

Just before Fulcrum could shift, rub his wrists in the stasis cuffs restraining his hands behind his back, Crankcase turned swiftly and snapped, "Did I tell you you could move?"

Fulcrum winced. "S-Sorry, sir," he swallowed.

Crankcase went quiet again. Fulcrum wondered if he was going to resume stargazing, but then the visored mech was crossing the room in slow, steady footfalls. His field was clamped tight to his frame, but Fulcrum could feel that foreboding twist in his tanks.

"Do you have _any idea_ who I am?" Crankcase asked, voice bitter but quiet.

Fulcrum opened his mouth.

"Of course you do," Crankcase interjected, and Fulcrum closed his mouth. "Everyone in the known universe has heard of me. My fearful reputation." He managed to stand taller. "The World Waster. The Genocidal God. The Crushing Curse. The Vicious Violent Villainous Vagrant."

The list of unique titles went on another half-minute or so; Fulcrum pretended to be paying attention. Finally, Crankcase snarled, "The captain of the powerful, invincible warship, the almighty Starsnacking Godmuncher." Paused. "Captain Crankcase."

Fulcrum's frown twitched. "... Yes, I--I was lying," he murmured, bowing his head, "I--I just--"

"You just 'what'?" Crankcase interrupted again, and Fulcrum tried not to look annoyed. The irritation turned in fear when Crankcase suddenly ran up to him, bent down, and got in his face--foreheads bumping, nose smashing against nose. "Thought you'd get away with sneaking on my ship like some scum-sucking, bottom-feeding, free-loading Lamix leech!?"

Fulcrum gulped. "N-N-No, sir, I--I thought--"

"Stop stammering, you simpering ruststain!"

Fulcrum's frown twitched again. "I... I just wanted to join your crew," he said, "I thought--well, as you know, you're the most formidable, frightening Decepticons--"

"--Transformers--"

"--Decepticons and Transformers in the galaxy--"

"Universe!"

"Right! I just wanted t-to be a part of the team," Fulcrum finished.

Crankcase's visor narrowed. He kept his face awkwardly pressed against the nervous Decepticon's. "... Is that so?" he asked, and finally stood, stepping back. "You thought I'd just let you on my team, the elite Wrecker Wreckers?" He sneered, semi-amused. "A weak, skinny little reject like you? Not even good enough for the Genericons?"

Fulcrum was beginning to regret his decision, but for entirely different, prideful reasons. Still, he said he'd do this, and, really, it-- Well, it wasn't _too_ bad. Fulcrum would later add "mild masochistic tendencies" to his list of quirks. "Let me prove myself to you, sir," he pleaded, "let me show you I'm good enough to join your crew."

Crankcase snorted. "You've already failed, glitch-rat," he said. "Your first mistake was trying to pull the tarp over my optics." His shoulders stiffened, rolled; he turned his back on Fulcrum, taking two steps away before stopping. "I don't take very kindly to stow-aways. Even if your intentions were... noble. Stupid, pathetic, but noble."

Fulcrum chewed his bottom lip. "How can I... How can I make it up to you?"

Crankcase did not answer. Fulcrum hoped he wasn't going to go stare out the window. But then, slowly, the visored mech just barely gazed over his shoulder, and Fulcrum felt a warm chill rush up his backstrut, fingers ticking against the cuffs.

"Open your panel, silt-weed."

Fulcrum gulped, and there was another "mildly masochistic tendencies" burst of energy up his spine. A charge igniting in his chest. Doubt was dwindling. He tried to look embarrassed as he manually opened his panels. His unit pressurized half-mast, lubricant starting to trickle the lining of his channel.

Crankcase turned around. "You must be punished," he stated. " _Hard_."

"Oh, yes, sir," Fulcrum tried not to titter, show any anticipation. Right. He was suppose to be frightened. Okay. That was certainly easy enough. "I mean--h-have mercy?"

Crankcase wrinkled his nose. "You dunce petro-rabbit," he said, his foot lifting off the ground, "you know I am _merciless_."

Fulcrum gasped, the foot slamming down on his unit. It hurt, but not entirely. He slumped forward with a whimper as Crankcase started grinding his heel down against the base, pushing that little bit of transfluid and charge into his unit to full erection.

"Your ignorance is astounding, and yet you think you deserve to be on my team?"

Fulcrum groaned. "I-I'm sorry!"

Crankcase applied a little more pressure, continuing to knead and dig his foot into the unit. "You pusillanimous fool," he spat, and Fulcrum yelped as he drew back his foot only to abruptly slam it down again. Ground down as if he were snubbing out a cygar. "I should just put you out of your misery."

"N-No, sir, p-please," Fulcrum whined. He bucked into the stroking foot. "S-Spare me!"

"Why should I?" Crankcase demanded. The edge of his boot pushed the head of Fulcrum's unit against his torso, the sensation biting. "I'd be doing the universe a favor. You're a waste of energon and fuel."

Fulcrum could only shake, mechanics whirring. Maybe be offended later, but not right now. "I can... Let me..." He couldn't think straight. Grit his teeth as the boot dug back into his unit. "Le-let me m-make it up t-to you... I..." His dim, hooded optics looked up from the brim of his helm. Crankcase glared at him expectantly. Could not break character to chide him.

Fulcrum gulped. Crankcase let him scoot awkwardly back, just far enough so he could dip forward and press his lips to the edge of his raised foot. Caressed it delicately, before giving it a lash of his tongue. He didn't need to look to see if he'd gotten approval--he bowed down, tongue dragging from the bottom of his heel, back to the tip, leaving behind a thin trail of coolant. Kissed and repeated the process, this time nuzzling down one side, licking up the other.

Crankcase's bitter demeanor began to crack. His visor, also cracked, brightened, lips pulling back to show teeth. His spark pulsed impatiently in its chamber. Fulcrum need only give the edge of his boot a nip before he shoved it against the kneeling Decepticon's chest, pinning him to the ground.

"You think throwing yourself at me like a two shanix pleasure Paradron bot will save your spark!?" Crankcase barked furiously. But the anger was not personal.

Fulcrum whimpered. "I'm sorry, I-- I didn't mean to o-offend," he whined, and the foot pressed down harder over his spark.

"You will regret ever seducing me, you sludge-licker," Crankcase growled, but then he was on his knees, too, grabbing Fulcrum's thighs and forcing his legs wide open. Fulcrum choked on a gasp. Crankcase did not break eye contact as he ruthlessly thrust two of his large fingers inside Fulcrum's channel, hooking onto nodes and tugging.

Fulcrum threw his head back with a scream.

"Already lubed up and revving to go," Crankcase hissed, "as if you stood any chance interfacing with me-- _me_ , the captain of the fearsome Starsnacking Godmuncher!"

"I'm stupid, I'm stupid!" Fulcrum howled, channel walls clenching around those fingers.

"I'll humor you, Genericon," Crankcase snarled. He withdrew his digits, and Fulcrum groaned, fingers biting into his palms. "If only because I want to see you squirm."

"O-Oh, noooo," Fulcrum swooned. Wasn't very good, but Crankcase overlooked it.

Crankcase took the bound Decepticon's hips, squeezed. "Prepare yourself," he growled lowly, his own unit pressurizing, "for the Furious 'Facing Firmware!"

Fulcrum snerked but regained composure. Cleared his throat and whined, "Aaahhh, I--I'm so scared, whatever s-shall I d--"

"Shut up," Crankcase snapped, and it was less acting and more "you're screwing this up for me you idiot." But he kept going, and Fulcrum squealed as he thrust his unit into his channel, pausing at the head before continuing. Deep almost to the hilt, and Crankcase poured over him, face hovering above the wailing sod. "I don't think y-you can handle my girth, scrap-face."

Fulcrum whimpered, adjusting to said girth. He cried as Crankcase pulled out, half-way, slamming inside him again.

"I--I--!"

"I said shut up, moron!" Crankcase snarled, and forced two fingers--once in Fulcrum's channel--into Fulcrum's mouth. Fulcrum gagged, nearly choking as they barely brushed his intakes. Crankcase started thrusting again, each hip-snap fast and hard and the K-Class Decepticon whimpered around the digits holding down his tongue. "I'm going to frag you so hard, something will _tear_."

Fulcrum didn't think that was as sexy. Kind of scary, actually. His masochism was, after all, mild to moderate. He said something, but it only came out as garbled nonsense.

Any attempt to talk afterward was thwarted. Crankcase kept his fingers in his mouth, urging a leg up against his shoulder. Slamming mercilessly inside his moaning, writhing "prisoner." Fulcrum rocked against the ground, metal cuffs leaving behind shallow grooves. His wrists ached, but the unit pumping in and out of him was a much more distracting sensation.

"Suck," Crankcase hissed, teeth grit. Fulcrum managed to concentrate just enough to rub his cramped tongue against the underside of the probing fingers. They moved in much more shallow strokes, allowing him to drag his lips from base to knuckle and down again. Lavishing his tongue between the two fingers, grazing their sides in heavy licks.

"Y-Yeah," Crankcase sneered, grinning; his visor brightened, "fear me. W-Worship me. Captain C-Crankcase. Best, a-and strongest of all... of all..." He trailed off, picking up his pace with more needy desperation. Fulcrum pulled his leg free, throwing both around Crankcase and clamping down, ankles crossed. He ground back, taking more of the unit, helping his "captain" along the way, just as (submissively as possible) demanding.

It didn't take long before that charge overwhelmed him. "Gonna... gonna overload!" Crankcase snarled. He hooked his digits on Fulcrum's jaw, clumsily thrusting faster and faster.

Fulcrum squeezed his optics shut; teeth clenched down on the fingers as Crankcase overloaded inside him, transfluid spilling free. His back curved into an almost perfect arch off the ground, cuffed fingers splayed and digging. Crankcase snarled and held him tight, snapping his hips weakly to milk out the entire climax.

With a heavy sigh, Crankcase let go, and Fulcrum flopped back onto the ground. Crankcase sat between his legs, fans revving as his sputtering engine slowly quieted and relaxed. It took him a minute before he computed the wiggling in his lap, around his unit still sheathed inside Fulcrum. Dim gaze turned on his partner, who was still very obviously in need of overloading.

Crankcase sneered. "Why should I let you overload? A wretch like you doesn't deserve a release."

Fulcrum's optics widened, ridges furrowing angrily. "Nahho!" he spat around the fingers. Now he was no longer playing, continued writhing and demanding his fair share.

Crankcase snorted. "Such a protoform." He removed his fingers.

Fulcrum gasped. "Don't y-you dare leave me h-hanging!" he snarled, voice haggard and dry.

"Shut up, idiot," Crankcase grumbled. He pulled himself free, moving back on his knees and bowing forward. He looked over Fulcrum's unit, obviously unimpressed, before wrapping his lips around the head, taking the cord half in his mouth.

Fulcrum whimpered. Crankcase bobbed his head, sucking lazily but just deep enough to pull Fulcrum closer to the edge. His fingers dug into the Decepticon's hips, guiding him along. Head to base, head to base, and before he could finally overload, Crankcase whipped back, avoiding a burst of transfluid down his throat.

Fulcrum sunk against the floor with a heavy sigh. Closed his optics and allowed his system to recalibrate.

"You can't act for scrap," Crankcase scowled, cleaning himself off with a rag.

"Hmm." Fulcrum was still coming down, couldn't properly formulate words. Though, as things settled, he did notice a lingering, scratchy sensation inside his channel. Not too painful, but definitely bothersome enough. It dawned on him, then, and he frowned blandly.

Crankcase noticed his disappointment. "What is it?"

\---

"Just a tiny tear. Should clear up on its own. Lemme just run another quick scan, see if the rest of you is intact in here."

Fulcrum, completely ashamed, could not meet Spinister's gaze as the medic worked between his legs, repairing the tear in his channel. Crankcase stood nearby, arms folded, looking pissy as usual. Though Fulcrum did detect some embarrassment from his restrained field.

"All that shouting," Krok said, glaring at Crankcase, "I thought you were strangling him."

"Whatever," Crankcase huffed, turning his glower to the wall.

"You were roleplayin', yeah?" Spinister asked. He looked up from his examination, at his nervous patient. "You're gonna get that. Especially if it gets too rough." He tilted his head at Krok. "Once, when Krok and me were doin' the Beastmaster and untamed, stubborn Elpasos otto-lion routine, he--"

" _I think Fulcrum will be just fine_ ," Krok interjected loudly. "He can go now."

Fulcrum looked at Crankcase, suppressing a smile. Even he was a little amused.


End file.
